


The Bigger Picture

by citrinesunset



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark!Charles, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: After Cuba, Charles has a revelation: it's up to him to use his power to help bring peace and security to mutantkind.The problem, of course, is what do about Erik. Erik, who's too stubborn to see that Charles is right. Erik, who would undo all of Charles' hard work if he were free to do so.





	The Bigger Picture

As it turned out, Erik had been right about one thing: they were already the better men. After all, what was the difference between Charles' gift and the gift of a brilliant surgeon or engineer? If he had the ability to save lives, to bring about peace, how could he turn away and hide? 

It was disappointing that Erik wasn't able to appreciate this common ground. That he was still too stubborn in his anger and impatience. All the same, Erik had a purpose in the new world Charles was ushering in.

"I'd like to bring Erik with us on Monday," Charles announced as Hank brought him a cup of freshly-brewed tea.

Hank held the cup lightly. He'd made great strides in getting used to his new form. His large, clawed fingers might always lack the dexterity he'd once had, but he was rapidly learning to compensate. Charles liked to think he'd been able to help with that. At least, he'd been able to give Hank a bit of confidence.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Hank asked tersely. He handed Charles the cup.

"Certainly. He should be a part of this, don't you think?"

"I'm still not convinced he deserves to be here at all."

Charles responded as he always did when the topic came up. "It's important now, more than ever, that we work together. That we find common ground. How can I possibly expect Erik to work with me if I can't find it in myself to forgive him?"

Charles was aware that the prevailing belief in the mansion was that he was either a fool or a saint. The truth was, bringing Erik back into the fold had nothing to do with trust. And there were days, honestly, when forgiving him was like swallowing bile. There were sleepless nights where he found himself imagining the things he _could_ do to Erik, if he so wished. But he chased those ideas way as quickly as they came.

He wasn't one to lash out in anger. That was the difference between them, and it was important to remember that.

Hank took a seat across from Charles. "Speaking of coming together, I was thinking...I know you wanted to give her some time, but couldn't we use Cerebro to find her? Just to make sure she's okay?"

Charles sighed. He wished he could assure Hank that he _had_ had been keeping tabs on Raven using Cerebro. But if Hank knew that Charles had been able to find her, it was only a matter of time before he would want to talk to her, and try to convince her to come back.

"I'll see," he said. "I believe she doesn't want to be found just yet."

There was nothing that would have pleased Charles more than to have Raven back, but he had to keep sight of the bigger picture.

Hank, Alex, and Sean were eager to follow Charles. They'd been happy when he came out of the hospital determined to confront Erik and his Brotherhood. Convincing Angel to return had been easy. Her mind required only the slightest nudge to remind her of what she'd given up. 

Charles never expected to change Erik's mind—it was enough to get him alone for a minute. Get him to remove the helmet. Charles had been in Erik's mind enough before to know what to say.

But Raven hadn't accepted the happy turn of events. Even when Erik told her that he'd been wrong, even when her friends begged her to come back, all she had done was look at Charles with suspicion and disgust. She knew, and he couldn't bring himself to control her when she looked at him like that. The only thing to do was to let her go.

With time, he would earn back her trust. She would see he was right. But it would help if Erik could be more cooperative....

Charles lifted the cup to his lips to take a drink when a sharp pain rippled through his head. His hand jerked, spilling hot tea on his chest and staining his white shirt. The worst of the pain passed quickly, but he could still feel it—like fists pounding against his mind.

Hank reached across the table to steady his hand.

"Charles? Are you okay?"

"Yes, fine. Thank you. Just a headache. I think I'll go upstairs and get some rest. Could you tell the others I don't want to be disturbed until dinnertime?"

"Of course," Hank said. "You've been working so hard lately. You should give yourself a break."

Charles wheeled himself to the elevator. Once he reached his bedroom, he put his fingers to his temple and mentally summoned Erik.

When he saw Erik's shape in the doorway, he said, "I hope you're happy. You made me spill tea on myself. Would you get me a clean shirt?"

Wordlessly, Erik walked over to the closet. Charles glanced in his direction and noticed he was using his left hand to short through the shirts. His right hand hung by his side. The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from the bedside lamp, so Charles went closer to take a look. Erik stopped rifling through the closet when Charles came up beside him, but didn't argue when Charles lifted his right hand to examine it. His knuckles were bloody.

Charles clicked his tongue. "These outbursts can't continue, Erik. You could have broken your hand. What would we tell the others? They already get suspicious sometimes, with how much time you spend to yourself."

Erik pulled his hand away and turned to face him. "Can't have that, can we?"

Charles locked eyes with him. "Yes, I can imagine what they'd think of me if they knew the truth. But if they _did_ know, do you really think they'd be sympathetic? If they found out you haven't had a change of heart, after all? I think we both know the answer to that, as well." Charles shook his head and sighed. "Forget the shirt. I'll take care of it. Go into the bathroom and get some dressing for your hand. I'll help you."

As Erik obeyed, Charles selected a shirt. He took off the soiled one and tossed it on the bed. By the time he was dressed, Erik re-emerged from the master bathroom carrying bandages and a damp washcloth.

"I can take care of this myself," he said. "I don't want you help."

"Nonsense. Have a seat on the bed."

Erik wasn't an idiot. He must have known by now that any objections he made were just for show. But he always had to tug at the leash. Given the options, Charles preferred pointless arguments to fists driven into walls.

Slowly, Erik took a seat. Charles took the washcloth from him and reached for his injured hand.

"We have a very exciting opportunity, Erik. And I'd like you to be a part of it." Erik didn't respond, so Charles continued. "I've managed to arrange a meeting with a prominent professor of pediatric medicine. See, I feel that one of the greatest challenges I'll face in running the school is that I may not be able to reach every potential student as soon as their mutation manifests. But imagine if we had the medical community on our side. Imagine if, when panicking parents rush their mutant child to the doctor, they could be told that their child is perfectly normal?" 

"Wonderful. It's the CIA all over again."

"Erik, don't start...." He wiped away the blood and set the washcloth aside. He unwound the roll of bandages slowly, waiting for Erik's skin to dry.

"You're going to get us all killed," Erik said, his voice rising. "Do you really think you can bend the whole world to your will?"

He began to wrap Erik's knuckles. With a small smile, he said, "I've managed to bend _you_ to my will. More or less, at least."

"It's criminal, what you've done to me. And now you want to parade me around like a trained pony."

"What I want is to have you by my side as we usher in a new, better age. Is that so terrible?"

Headaches aside, Charles liked these days, the ones where Erik pushed back against his control, the best. He couldn't help but miss the man that Erik had been. Perhaps he was a fool, after all.

Erik pulled his hand away. He tucked his under his other arm like a broken wing.

"Charles...you know I wish things happened differently. And if you want to punish me, I'll accept it. But this isn't the way. This isn't who you are. You must let me go."

His eyes were becoming frantic. If Charles didn't shut him down soon, there would be another outburst. One of the others might hear.

Charles smiled humorlessly. Did Erik really think he had the moral high ground?

"Believe me, my friend—if I wanted to punish you, you would know it." He sighed and shook his head. "I wish, truly, that it didn't need to be like this. One day, you'll see I'm right. You'll _want_ to stay, and I'll let you use your power freely again. But for right now, I need you to calm down."

He placed one hand against his temple and the other on Erik's shoulder. As he concentrated, the tension left Erik's face. His eyes became peaceful.

"That's it," Charles said. "Relax."

* * *

Erik managed to behave himself at dinner. When asked, he explained that he hurt his hand fixing the radiator in his bedroom. After dinner, he went upstairs and Charles retreated to his study to work.

There was much to do, these days. Curriculum planning, readying the mansion for students, finding teachers. And then there was the bigger picture. Identifying scientists and politicians who might be sympathetic to their cause, given the right nudge. Charles had entertained the notion that secrecy would be their best defense, but he was no longer certain of that. Even without Erik causing trouble, it was only a matter of time before the public became more aware of mutants. Charles wasn't exactly planning on going on the evening news and announcing himself, but there were measures he could take behind the scenes.

Being busy suited Charles well. It was certainly better than sitting around feeling sorry for himself, or regretting what happened in Cuba. Besides, he wouldn't have been the man he was now if not for Erik. For that, he was almost grateful.

Much later, when Charles had settled into his bed, Erik came to him.

Charles set aside the book was reading and beckoned Erik inside. Erik shut the door behind him.

"Yes, Erik?"

"Did we...quarrel earlier?"

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Did we? Not about anything important. I hardly remember, myself. But please, stay."

Erik walked over to bed, but his brow was still furrowed in thought. His mind was on the cusp of something, seeking answers even though he could no longer think of the questions. Charles reached out and touched his arm.

"Do you remember when we were on the road together?" Charles asked. "That night in Pittsburgh?"

Erik blinked, his focus snapping back to Charles. "How could I forget?"

"It's nice, isn't it? That we have another chance? I'm glad you came back."

He pulled on the belt of Erik's robe to open it. Erik was shirtless underneath, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. When he put his hand on Erik's stomach, Erik's abdominal muscles tensed.

"It's all right," Charles said. "Come on—join me."

Erik hesitated a moment, and then walked around and climbed onto the bed. Charles sat up and pushed the robe off Erik's shoulders. Then he reached for the waistband of his pajamas.

Erik recoiled ever so slightly before inching closer and letting Charles push his pants down to his knees. His body was still tentative. But he'd always been that way. He'd always been so hesitant to allow himself pleasure.

"Go on. I want to see you."

Slowly, Erik took off his pants. Charles beckoned him over with a crook of his finger, and Erik straddled his lap. By the time Charles grasped his cock, it was already half hard. 

Erik tugged at the waistband of Charles' pants, but Charles stopped him and guided Erik's hand up the front of his shirt instead.

Erik froze. "I'm sorry. I forgot—"

Regret flooded his mind, and that was the one thing Charles couldn't tolerate. Erik's regret was worthless.

"Don't," Charles said firmly. "It's all in the past. It's all forgiven."

Before Erik could respond, or argue, Charles grasped the back of his neck and silenced him with a kiss. He tugged on his hair and nipped at his lower lip, and the resulting moan from Erik didn't sound entirely displeased.

He'd meant for this to be gentle. He'd wanted to make Erik feel cared for. _Forgiven_. But perhaps this was the best way to do it. Erik had always come the quickest when Charles was rough with him. Charles released him from the kiss and worked his way over to Erik's neck, where he nipped and sucked. Erik squirmed but made no complaint.

Oh, how he used to love leaving his mark on Erik. He'd loved knowing they were there the next day, even when Erik wore a turtleneck to conceal them.

Without stopping, he reached for Erik's cock and started to stroke. First slowly, and then hard and fast.

Erik was slumped over him now, his sweat-soaked forehead resting on Charles' shoulder.

When Erik came, Charles felt the orgasm as though it was his own. And perhaps it was. Perhaps this was just a new way of feeling. He screwed his eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath as Erik collapsed against him. Then he held Erik and stroked his hair. This was the time to show Erik tenderness—when he was too worn-out and stripped of his pride to resist.

There was more than one way to get into Erik's head.

Eventually, Erik sat up. Charles looked down at the mess Erik had made on his shirt and laughed. 

"Look what you've done to my shirt. That's what I get for not taking it off, I suppose. Will you fetch me a clean one?"

Erik sat back and blinked. Slowly, he got off Charles' lap and walked stiff-legged over to the dresser where Charles kept his pajamas. He pulled out a clean shirt and looked at it for a moment before taking it to Charles.

Then he stepped into the bathroom. To clean up, presumably. When he returned a minute later, he'd tied his robe closed. He started toward the door without stopping to grab his pants from the bed.

"Where are you going? Stay here tonight."

Erik froze with his hand on the doorknob.

"The others already know, I'm sure," Charles continued. "We needn't worry about them seeing you leave in the morning."

It wasn't what Erik was thinking. But sometimes it was simpler to invent questions that he could answer satisfactorily.

It worked. Erik let go of the doorknob and returned to bed. He climbed in beside Charles and lay on his side, facing away.

Charles put a hand on his back and felt him tense. "Are you all right?"

For a moment, he wondered if he'd misjudged. But all he'd done was give Erik what he wanted. He wouldn't have taken Erik into his bed if it didn't make him happy. If it didn't make him feel loved.

He knew Erik better than Erik knew himself. He knew his fears. He knew what he needed. If he gave him that, there would be no need to turn him into a puppet or warp his memory.

"I'm fine. I just—"

"Yes?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Erik pulled the covers around himself and curled up like an animal protecting its belly. Charles turned himself onto his side so that he could nestle up to him. He kissed the back of Erik's head and made him sleep.


End file.
